The Aftermath
by CrystalDragon791
Summary: Nearly a week after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, but not everything is as it should be...especially things between our favorite boy with the lightning scar and a certain redhead [my first fanfic, please R&R] [oneshot]


Tired of Waiting

Though she knew it was well past midnight, Ginny Weasley lay wide awake in her small bedroom at the Burrow. It had been almost a week since the Battle of Hogwarts (as the _Daily Prophet_ had dubbed it), when Harry had finally destroyed Lord Voldemort for good. Hogwarts itself was being rebuilt, Hagrid had moved back into his hut on the grounds, Professor McGonagall had been named Headmistress, the dementors were under control and back at Azkaban, all the Death Eaters had been rounded up and sent to prison, Harry was staying with the Weasleys until Kreacher cleaned up number twelve, Grimmauld Place from the last Death Eater raid, Ron and Hermione had finally gotten over each other and gotten together, and the Wizarding world was experiencing an overall aura of peace.

And yet…

Harry still hadn't approached her about being his girlfriend again. Ginny appreciated why they had broken up—Harry wanted to protect her from Voldemort, while he was off on his quest, or whatever it was…he still hadn't explained things properly, either…

It had occurred to Ginny that Harry might not want to be with her again, that she might seem small and insignificant next to everything he had been and done. However, maybe he was just giving her time to grieve for Fred, maybe he didn't understand that the black hole in her stomach could be soothed by the feel of his arms around her. Maybe he was coming to terms with all the people who had fought and died to keep him safe, so that he might defeat his ultimate enemy; she knew it wasn't good for him to stew in his own thoughts for any amount of time, but he might be confiding in Ron and Hermione instead…Ginny mentally swatted away her sudden bitterness toward her brother and her best friend.

_Still_, Ginny thought, throwing off her covers,_ he's hardly even _talked _to me since he defeated old Moldy-Butt. And Ron owes me for interrupting the two of us back on Harry's birthday._ Silently, she marched across the room, determined to climb up to Ron and Harry's bedroom and demand to talk to Harry. As she reached her door and yanked it open, however, she came face-to-face with Harry himself, hand raised and poised to knock. They stared at each other for a second, a little shell-shocked that this moment had crept up on them so suddenly; then Harry lowered his arm and said, very quietly, "Can I come in?"

Ginny stood aside to let him by, noting giddily that, due to the stifling summer heat, Harry was clad only in Snitch-patterned pajama pants, leaving his muscled chest bare and illuminated by moonlight. Ginny's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes traveled up his lean frame, relishing every dip and curve, until she reached his face and melted in the intensity of his emerald gaze.

Before he could move, she'd raced over and thrown her arms around his neck, calling herself ten kinds of idiot for ever doubting him. For several minutes they stood just like that, Ginny reveling in the feel of his right arm around her waist as his left hand drowned itself in her long hair.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured hoarsely. "I took out the Marauder's Map nearly every night, to see where you were."

_Sorry I kept you waiting._

_I'm here for you now._

_Are you OK? Are we OK?_

_Will you be my girlfriend again?_

Ginny tightened her grip. "If you ever die again, I will kill you."

_It's OK. Yes._

Harry chuckled and pulled away to get a better view of her. Ginny, however, wouldn't meet his eyes as she traced the round scar over his heart; a torrent of fear and pain had flooded over her as the horrible image unwillingly surfaced in her mind—Harry's body, apparently lifeless, cradled in Hagrid's giant arms like a rag doll, mouth gaping, green eyes closed behind lopsided glasses, locks of charcoal-black hair splayed pathetically across his forehead…

Warm, calloused fingers found her chin and made her look up into Harry's eyes. Grinning, he bent over slightly and kissed her on the mouth, to remind her that he was quite alive.

Two hours later, when Harry reluctantly trudged back up to the room he was sharing with Ron, he left Ginny with two concrete beliefs:

She, Ginny Weasley, loved Harry Potter more than anything else in the world, including Quidditch, and

Ron might commit murder if he found out the…ahem…_extent_ of Harry's love for Ginny.


End file.
